


you don't have to walk on your knees, a hundred miles alone

by questionsthemselves



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, Gen, Life After Loss, Pre-Relationship, Rare Pairings, Recovery, angsty fluff, bug soup, headcanoned as a queerplatonic relationship but left purposefully ambiguous, space kitties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:11:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionsthemselves/pseuds/questionsthemselves
Summary: In which Mantis and Kraglin learn to be, in a life after Ego, and it's somehow a little bit better together.





	you don't have to walk on your knees, a hundred miles alone

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday LittleAlternativeGirl!! Sorry it's a bit late, I hope you enjoy Bug Soup with space kitties :) super exhausted so will probably get an edit in the morning.
> 
> Title is taken more or less from the gorgeous Mary Oliver Poem Wild Geese which I love so very, very much and I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE everyone to read.
> 
> ALSO because I forgot to add this last night all the love to the wonderful Choices_We_Make for the idea for the first half of the plot, and all the thanks to my ever best beta Resri. <3 <3 <3

Mantis is bored. 

She was used to it, in a way, having to find things to occupy herself. Ego had kept her at his beck and call, but between new children especially she was mostly left alone. 

Here though, it’s different. She _wants_ to contribute, to use her time not just for herself but for her new friends - friends she’d thought she’d never have. The Guardians embrace her, include her with jobs where her powers are useful, but there’s a dynamic they have. They’ve already built a rhythm, parts where each of them fit in and even after this long, Mantis doesn’t quite know where she belongs in it. 

She ends up spending the long days between jobs wandering, drifting between the bridge, the rec room that’s been turned into Rocket’s workshop, the gym where Gamora flows fluidly through her fighter’s forms. When she gets tired of that, she takes to searching out the nooks and crannies of the _Quadrant,_ finding all the little hideaways in the maze of the ship.

That’s how one afternoon, she finds the engine room, through a set of heavy metal double doors down a out of the hallway, wedged part way open. When she peers through, she almost jolts back with surprise - it’s not empty. Inside is Peter’s Ravager friend, Kraglin, who’d joined the Guardians after Ego like she had.

“Here c’mere, hold this will ya?” Kraglin’s words are mumbled around the tool he’s got between his teeth, both hands struggling to hold some bit of machinery in place. Mantis blinks, then hesitantly weaves her way around the scattered bits and bobs to hold the piping in place. 

“Perfect, like that.” Kraglin’s still focused on whatever he’s working out in his head, cocks his head and then takes the tool out of his mouth and flips it open to start winching something into place. As soon as he’s got it secured, he turns to her with a lopsided grin. 

“‘Preciate that, you know how it gets with em-drives, more things to hold than you’ve got hands.” 

Mantis doesn’t have the first clue how it is with em-drives, but she nods. Kraglin seems to cotton on to her confusion though, because his eyes widen. 

“You ain’t never calibrated an em-drive before?”

“No-o,” Mantis bites her lip, feels her antennae drooping a little. “There was not any machinery like this on– on the planet where I lived.” 

She’s felt enough times from the Guardians, how many sad memories the mention of Ego brings up, so she tries not to talk about it any more. Kraglin seems to share that opinion – the corners of his eyes wrinkle up and he pauses, then shakes himself a little. Pulling himself up he seems to finally parse what she’s said, and his features twist affronted. 

“But, what’chu gonna do when you get yer own M-ship, just let _other people_ work on it?” 

He seems so offended by the mere idea that Mantis doesn’t tell him that she never thought she would get her own M-ship. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind that some day there might be a gleaming swooping chrome bird of her own, painted in greens and silvers instead of the blue and orange of the _Milano._

When she doesn’t answer, Kraglin’s lips twist and he firms his chin. 

“You ain’t planetbound no more, can’t be a proper spacer if you don’t know how t’maintenance your ship,” he grumbles as he offers her the tool in his hand. Mantis takes it, confused, but then he’s stalking towards what looks like a copper cone attached to an array of tiny pipes.

“How ‘bout we start with the basics of how an em-drive works, yeah?” He plunks himself down in front of it, flipping it over and waiting until she sits herself down next to it too. 

 

He’s a surprisingly good teacher, although perhaps not so surprising after all. Before he’d been first mate, she discovers, Kraglin had been an engineer and had even been the one in charge of training the rookies how not to blow things up. That love for taking things apart and putting them together, the feel of something purring to life in his hands, is something he’s never lost and somehow learning from him, Mantis falls in love with it too. 

It clears her mind, the methodicalness of it. When there’s a thousand things crowding her head, the lights and the noise and the whirling chaos of life want to leave her curled in a corner, she goes to the engine room. It becomes her and Kraglin’s place, and eventually their times together become more supervisory and less instructional as she learns the basics of her way around. There’s general maintenance to do, and gauges and wiring that regularly go out of whack, and the two of them together find a rhythm of their own, keeping the _Quadrant_ running smooth as a ship as old and patched together as it is can. It's a fragile thing between them, more fragile than her blooming friendships with the other Guardians - but almost because of that, she treasure it. 

 

On the anniversary of Ego’s destruction, Mantis walks into the engine room for her unofficial tutoring session to find Kraglin roaringly drunk. The rest of the Guardians have gone planet side to celebrate and mourn, but she’d declined the invitation. The tumultuous cacophony of people would be too much right now – she’d rather be alone. It’s a good thing, she knows, that she has this anniversary of her freedom, but the day still brings with it remembering. 

Kraglin’s stripped his jumpsuit half off, tied it around his waist to expose his grungy undershirt. There’s a neat stack of empty bottles on one side of him, another half-full in his hand. His gangly limbs are sprawled haphazardly over pieces of machinery and piping on the floor, eyes staring emptily at the ceiling as he fingers something, sliding it through his hands over and over. It’s Yondu’s arrow, she thinks with a moment of jarring recognition, or something that looks like it. 

She wants to say something, doesn’t know what, and she’s just wondering whether she should leave him to drink himself into a stupor in peace when he starts to speak.

“It’s because of me, y’know.” Kraglin doesn’t look at her, doesn’t stop the obsessive movement he’s making. “I was the one that started the mutiny, let him go down to fight without me at his back.” 

Mantis opens her mouth, closes it. She swallows. 

“Fact is, the whole thing’s cos of me, I was the one what found him the job with that child-murdering bastard in the first place. Never told Petey that,” Kraglin laughs, a sad jagged little sound like serrated blades scraping wood. 

Mantis inches further into the room, drops to her knees besides Kraglin. He’s in so much pain, and even though she’s hurting too he’s her _friend_ and she wants to take it away. She hovers a hesitant hand over the bony knob of his shoulder, but he tilts his head blearily to look at her, shakes his head. 

“Don’t do that, you don’t need t’feel this.” 

Mantis frowns, settles down on the floor and crosses her arms.

“You think I do not know what you feel?” It still irks her a little, that everyone seems to forget so easily where she came from, thinks she’s an innocent just because she’s still learning all their social customs. “I was Ego’s pet.”

Kraglin just looks at her, confused and she doesn’t want to talk about this, she _doesn’t,_ but maybe it’ll be better, getting it out. She bites her lip hard, forces the words through her lips. 

“I was there when he brought his progeny to his planet. I was there when they were frightened and angry and homesick. I was there when he killed them.” 

She can see Kraglin’s eyes widening, his lips parting as he understands. She can’t look at him anymore though she settles back against the wall and hugs her knees. 

“I still see them sometimes, in my dreams, reaching for me,” she says quiet, “and then they crumble away while I only stand and watch.”

“Mantis…” Kraglin says softly, awkwardly, but she’s shaking her head to cut him off.

“Just, you don’t have to… you don’t have to protect me.”  Then she can feel his hand setting gently, butterfly light on her knee. It’s not touching skin so she still can’t feel his emotions, but somehow the weight of it grounds her, lets her slow her breathing back down and unclench her shoulders.

He silently offers her the bottle, and she takes it. It tastes vile, metallic and biting and Mantis nearly spits it back out, working it down her throat only through great effort. 

Kraglin grins and the faces she making, says, “Don’t worry, it’ll grow on ya.” 

Mantis grimaces, squints down at the green bottle. She doesn’t think anything that tastes that spectacularly awful will ever grow on her. 

A couple more sips in though, and she's not noticing the taste so much anymore. Her head feels dizzy, her body going all flushed and floaty. When she goes to hand the bottle back, her hand seems to wait a beat to respond, and it’s funny – she makes her fingers dance slowly in front of her and it’s _hilarious._

“Aw, hell,” Kraglin’s huffing out an amused sigh and pulling the bottle away. “Think that’s good fer now, ya lightweight.” 

Mantis giggles, hard enough she’s tilting forward into his chest. He smells nice, like grease, and sweat and the tang of metals and she lets her eyes close and the world spin merrily around them. 

 

She wakes up, tangled in a heap with Kraglin. Her head is throbbing, and when she swallows she grimaces, scrapes her tongue against her teeth to try and get the awful taste to go away. It doesn’t, and her moving seems to pull Kraglin from his stupor because he groans, tugs his gangly limbs out from under hers. 

“What time…” his voice is weak and scratchy, and he coughs a little to clear his throat, “They was going back planetside again today, we miss it?”

There’s a beat, and then they’re scrambling for the door. 

 

To their relief, the crew hasn’t left and they have enough time to scarf down food before they shuttle to the planet. Kraglin sets off on his own to buy supplies, and Mantis firmly quashes her disappointment about not being asked to go with him. She ends up tagging along instead with Peter and Gamora, and it’s fun, they tour the bustling steel-framed shops and narrow corridors that section the city. She misses Kraglin though, misses his dry quips and the warmth of him by her side – so when they stumble back to the ship that evening Mantis heads straight for the engine room, eager to show him her haul of new shinies. 

She pokes her head cheerfully through the door to see Kraglin windmill backwards a little as he sees her, hiding his hands behind his back with a suspiciously guilty look on his face. She tilts her head, narrows her eyes. 

“What are you hiding?” 

“Nothin’,” Kraglin shuffles from one foot to the next, widening his eyes so his expression goes all wounded innocence. “Weren’t nothin’, just getting ready to fix something with the reactors, might be dangerous, you should prolly go.”

Mantis doesn’t have to be touching him to know when he’s trying to pull a fast one – for someone who made his living through thieving and subterfuge, he sure isn’t a good liar sometimes. 

She’s about to tell him so when she hears a demanding little mewling noise from behind Kraglin’s back, and she watches him slowly going blotchy and red. 

The mewling sounds again, louder this time and more disgruntled. Curiosity thoroughly peaked, she shuffles the rest of the way into the room, and slides the door shut behind her. 

“What…” she starts, but then Kraglin’s shoulders are slumping and he pulls his hands out from behind his back to reveal the tiniest little furry creature with pointed ears and huge blue eyes, blotched all brown and black. She blinks confused. 

“’S a kitten,” Kraglin explains sheepishly, “wanted her for a ship’s cat, catch all the varmints hiding in the ducts, but I weren’t sure what the rest of them would say, so I thought I’d keep her in here.” 

The kitten is squirming fretfully in Kraglin’s grip, manages to stab a tiny claw into the one part of his palm not covered in calluses. He starts, fingers springing open enough that she wiggles herself free, drops lightly to the ground. Giving herself a little shake, and looking around like she’s surprised to be there, her gaze alights on Mantis and she pads toddling towards her. 

She’s small and furry and demanding, and Mantis feels all fizzingly adoringinside as she crouches down, lets the kitten rub her face happily against Mantis’ fingers. 

Kraglin crouches down too, lets the kitten tromp between the two of them. He looks up at her, and he gives her that lopsided little grin and that warm, soft thing in her melts a little more. 

They end up sitting against the wall, trading turns with a tiny laser pointer Kraglin’s cobbled together, giggling at the way the kitten pounces on it with ferocious intent. It’s cozy, and happy, Mantis feels full of something unspoken and unnamed that makes her never want to move. 

Eventually exhaustion tips her to slump sideways against Kraglin’s shoulder, and she snugs happily into his side. It’s almost overwhelming, the contentedness of it all, and she darts a quick kiss to his shoulder before her cheeks immediately warm with embarrassment. He looks surprised down at her, and she looks back apprehensively, but then he’s squirming an arm behind her shoulders to settle her in close, tucks his hand around her waist to rub a thumb absently at her side. 

She closes her eyes, lets the feel of it wash over her as she tries to memorize the way he feels. Out there, she thinks, there might be nightmares of mad gods and darkness and sorrow – but here, for this moment, there’s only light. 


End file.
